Seraphis seemed to notice as well, her lips curling in amusement. She straightened, her divine aura subtly shifting back to something more composed, and with a graceful nod, she returned to the matter at hand.
"I believe that covers the limits of my involvement. Now, let us return to the reason you were summoned here in the first place." Her voice, while still carrying warmth, became more measured. "I have already explained some of it, but let me continue from where we left off before our conversation diverged onto the topic of my intervention."
She paused briefly, as if gathering her thoughts, before continuing, her golden gaze sharpening. "As I said before, the war between the Rithen Kingdom and the Valden Kingdom erupted in full force, consuming the land in bloodshed. Countless mortals have perished in this senseless conflict…" Her voice wavered, not with weakness, but with barely restrained emotion. The soft radiance of her divine form flickered for the briefest moment, a testament to the sorrow that ran deeper than her calm demeanor suggested.
"And as the war raged on, as men and women fell in battle, as their cries of anguish reached me through their desperate prayers, I could not—no, I would not—stand idly by," she declared, her voice ringing with quiet conviction. The golden light surrounding her brightened subtly, its warmth carrying both sorrow and unwavering resolve. "That is why I made a deal with the Records."
She let the words hang in the air, allowing them to sink in before she continued, her expression composed once more. "I will not go into the finer details, as they are of no consequence to you. What matters is the outcome. The deal I struck ensured that warriors—beings of power beyond the norm—would come forth to aid the Rithen Kingdom. Warriors who could shift the tides of war." Her golden gaze swept over the four of them, her meaning unmistakable.
"This is your mission," she stated, her words carrying the weight of divine decree. "Help the Rithen Kingdom win this defensive war against the Valden Kingdom. Ideally, I would prefer if you could minimize casualties on both sides. I do not wish for mortals to die needlessly in this conflict." A faint sigh escaped her lips, and for the first time, a flicker of helplessness crossed her radiant features. "Of course, I understand that such a request is difficult—perhaps even unreasonable—considering the nature of war itself. But… if you can, at least keep it in mind." She offered a small, wistful smile, as if knowing full well that war was rarely so merciful.
The four of them listened attentively, understanding that this task was likely tied to the ranking of their mission. After a brief silence, Amelia finally spoke. "We'll try our best to reduce the casualties," she said firmly, her emerald eyes steady. "But we can't promise the impossible. All we can do is what's within our power."
Seraphis's expression softened with understanding. "That is all I can ask for," she acknowledged gently before her gaze grew more serious. "And now, before you depart, there is one last matter to discuss…"
There was an almost imperceptible hesitation in her voice, a faint reluctance that would have gone unnoticed by most. Yet, for those attuned to her presence, it was clear—she was not entirely eager to see them leave. How long had it been since she had spoken to people as equals rather than as a distant deity answering prayers?
Still, she quickly composed herself, her divine grace never faltering. "There is something you must know. In the mortal world to which you will be sent, magic—at least as you probably know it—does not exist. If you suddenly begin displaying superhuman abilities, it may cause fear, suspicion, or even hostility." Her golden eyes bore into them, as if ensuring they understood the weight of this reality. "That is why I have taken precautions. To aid you in your mission and ensure your presence is not questioned, I have prepared identities for you."
She straightened slightly, her divine radiance intensifying as she delivered her next words. "You will be my Divine Envoys!"
For a moment, silence filled the sacred hall. The four of them exchanged uncertain glances, processing the title she had so boldly declared.
Noticing their less-than-enthusiastic expressions, Seraphis let out a light chuckle, the corners of her lips curling in amusement. "Worry not—you will not truly be my envoys," she reassured them. "But you will act as if you are. This way, any extraordinary abilities you display can be attributed to the blessings of Seraphis, Goddess of Purity and Protection."
She allowed a moment for this information to settle before adding, "Furthermore, your status as my divine envoys will grant you considerable influence. You will be treated with great respect, and your words will carry weight in the kingdom's affairs. This will make it far easier to fulfill your mission."
She then offered a faint smile. "I have already informed the Pope that I will be sending envoys to aid in ending the war. So, when you arrive, there will be no need to explain yourselves—he will be expecting you."
Seraphis's golden gaze swept over them once more, searching for any sign of hesitation. "Is this arrangement acceptable to you?" she inquired, her melodic voice laced with an almost imperceptible hint of reluctance. Though she would never admit it, a part of her hoped they would protest—if only to extend this rare interaction a little longer.
The group exchanged glances before nodding in acceptance. Seeing their agreement, Seraphis gave a graceful nod, then raised her hand. A gentle wave of divine energy pulsed outward, enveloping them in a comforting warmth.
On the back of their right hands, a golden crest began to form. Mikael felt an unfamiliar sensation course through him instinctively; he felt that he could reject the mark if he so desired. But he made no such attempt, allowing it to fully manifest. As the emblem took shape, it radiated an overwhelming presence, an undeniable divinity that would command awe from any who beheld it.
Seconds later, the golden crest began to fade, its brilliance dimming until it was no longer visible. "This is your proof of divine authority," Seraphis explained. "You may summon or conceal it at will."
Her gaze lingered on them, golden irises gleaming with an unreadable emotion. "Do you have any further inquiries before I send you to meet the Pope?"
A brief silence stretched between them. Just as Seraphis was about to proceed, Mikael spoke up. "Once we're in the mortal world… will we be able to contact you if we have questions?"
A small sigh escaped her lips. "Unfortunately, that will not be possible," she admitted, a trace of regret in her tone. "The boundary between the mortal world and the divine realm is not so easily crossed. Frequent communication would be—" She paused mid-sentence, her golden eyes narrowing in thought. "Or… perhaps there is a way…"
A contemplative look crossed her face before a gentle smile graced her lips. "Yes… If I use the crest as an anchor, I should be able to establish a connection."
With another elegant motion of her hand, the golden insignias on their hands shimmered, the divine aura they emitted growing stronger.
"There," she said, her voice carrying a quiet satisfaction. "Now, should the need arise, you may call upon me through the crest. It will not allow for lengthy conversations, but I will be able to talk to you even from the divine realm."
Her gaze softened. "With that, I believe all has been settled."
Raising her hand one final time, she enveloped them in a radiant golden light. "May you walk with purpose… and may your journey lead to a future free of needless suffering."
As her words echoed in their ears, the divine radiance intensified, swallowing them whole. In the blink of an eye, the four figures vanished—sent forth to fulfill the mission that awaited them.
As the golden light enveloped them, Mikael and his party felt an intense warmth—not the searing heat of fire, but something far more comforting, as if they were being cradled in divine hands. The world around them blurred, their senses momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer power guiding them. Then, with a final pulse of radiance, the light faded, and they found themselves standing on solid ground once more.
A grand cathedral stretched before them, its towering stained-glass windows casting multicolored beams of light onto the pristine marble floor. The scent of incense hung thick in the air, and the distant echoes of a grand choir filled the massive hall.
Before them, rows upon rows of priests, knights, and nobles knelt in reverence, their expressions ranging from awe to barely contained elation. At the very front stood an elderly man clad in intricate ceremonial robes, his tall frame somehow exuding both frailty and unshakable authority. His golden-trimmed mitre bore the emblem of Seraphis, and the staff he held gleamed with embedded gemstones. This was unmistakably the Pope.
The moment their feet touched the ground, the entire hall erupted into exultant cheers.
"Praise be to the Goddess Seraphis!"
"Our salvation has arrived!"
"The divine envoys have descended!"
Mikael barely stopped himself from wincing at the sheer volume of their devotion. 'Damn… this is intense.' A sideways glance at his companions revealed similar reactions. Lyra shifted uncomfortably, Amelia's expression remained stoic but tense, and even Kiara's usual detached gaze flickered with mild exasperation.
The Pope stepped forward, lowering himself to one knee, bowing deeply. "O esteemed envoys of the Holy Goddess, we humbly welcome you to the mortal realm," his voice, though aged, carried the weight of absolute conviction.
Seraphis's earlier words echoed in Mikael's mind. 'You will act as my divine envoys.'
Suppressing the urge to sigh, he straightened and responded with as much authority as he could muster. "Rise, Your Holiness. We have descended as promised, and our purpose remains clear."
The Pope's face brightened as he slowly stood, his every movement deliberate. "Indeed. All has unfolded as the goddess foretold. Please, allow us to offer a proper reception before we discuss the dire matters at hand."
Mikael inwardly groaned. He had expected something like this, but that didn't make it any less annoying. Nevertheless, he nodded. "Very well."
A formal ceremony followed—long-winded speeches about divine will, salvation, and faith. The people watched in rapture, completely convinced that their goddess had intervened directly to save them. At one point, a noblewoman even fainted from sheer emotional overwhelm.
By the time all this was finished, Mikael expressed his desire to get down to business, prompting them to be finally led to a private chamber inside the palace. He was more than ready to focus on what truly mattered.
The chamber was richly adorned, with towering bookshelves, an intricate war map spread across a large table, and banners bearing the insignia of the Rithen Kingdom hanging from the walls. Seated around the table were key figures of the kingdom—King Alden IV, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a weary but composed expression; an elderly general clad in a decorated military uniform, his posture rigid despite his age; several high-ranking tacticians, their faces marked with concern; and a handful of influential nobles. At the head of the table stood the Pope, his presence exuding both religious authority and political influence.
As Mikael and his group took their seats, the atmosphere was thick with tension and expectation. All eyes were on them, some filled with hope, others with cautious skepticism.
Author Note:
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